Page 9 of Mountain Man in my Stockings
"Noon works." Her smile transformed her face, reaching her eyes in a way that made something twist beneath my sternum.
A scuffle at the other end of the bar demanded my attention. As I moved away, I called over my shoulder, "You should come back for the Christmas Eve bash, too. Biggest night of the year here."
"Oh?" She raised her voice slightly to be heard over the growing crowd.
"Stocking Pull championship, live music, the works." I poured three beers in quick succession before returning to her end of the bar. "Whole town turns out for it."
"Sounds like something I should see." She tilted her head, considering me. "Actually, I could help you promote it, if you want. Social media, digital flyers—it's what I do."
"Seriously?" I hadn't expected that. "You don't have to work during your vacation."
"It hardly counts as work when I enjoy it." She pulled out her phone. "Plus, I owe you for the free meal last night and the drink tonight. Consider it payment."
Looking at her now—the designer clothes, perfectly manicured nails, the carefully applied makeup—her profession made perfect sense. She stood out in Promise Ridge like acardinal in snow, where most women wore flannel and Sorels as evening wear.
I watched her tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, noticed the slight dimple that appeared when she smiled. Something about her pulled at me, but I hesitated. I hadn't dated since moving to Promise Ridge. My last relationship ended when Lydia left after one too many nights of my PTSD episodes. 'Too broken,' she'd called me, as if trauma was something that should have healed faster.
The years since had thankfully healed more than I'd expected. The nightmares came less frequently. I no longer hit the deck when a car backfired. But I still kept people at arm's length, especially women. However, something about Eve made the walls I’d carefully built up feel suddenly paper-thin.
We'd barely met. Yet I couldn't ignore the way she drew me in, like a trail I hadn't planned to follow but couldn't resist exploring.
"We could definitely use the extra business," I said, accepting her offer. "That's really generous."
"I might as well put my skills to good use while I’m here." Her smile turned teasing. "Consider it my small contribution to the local holiday spirit."
"Then it's settled." I extended my hand across the bar. "Partners for the Christmas Eve bash."
She took my hand, and something electric passed between us, setting off every warning I'd been trained to heed—and making me want to ignore every one.
"Partners," she replied, the word suddenly feeling like more than just business.
"Noon tomorrow?" she confirmed, sliding off the barstool and gathering her coat.
"Noon tomorrow," I repeated, already anticipating it more than I had any right to.
As she walked out the door with a small wave, Sam appeared at my elbow.
"Careful there, boss," he said quietly. "Your poker face is slipping."
I turned to find him grinning knowingly at me.
"Don't you have dishes to wash?" I grumbled.
"Just calling it like I see it."
I turned back to my customers. But I was already planning tomorrow.
